Enchanting the Shadow Prince of the Host Club
by his sister
Summary: I've never felt thi way before. For once, I feel...unbalanced. Flustered and confused feelings are slowly replacing my usual calm and collected mask. What about this annoying, irresponsible girl is so...enticing?First fanfic! r&r!


_**Author's Note: Ello Everybody! This is my first fanfic, so I need as much criticism as possible! **_

_**So R&R, pretty please? : )**_

_**This is rated T because of the main character's excessive use of strong language and the twins' perverted-ness. I'm probly going to list it M later, some chapters might push T so….p.s. there will be some limey, perhaps lemony stuff in here (Kyoya&OC). But nothing hardcore. I'm no good at that. ;) P.s.s, This will switch between The main character's POV (you'll learn her name later), Kyoya's POV, and an omniscient, 3**__**rd**__** person POV ( the main character is up first). DISCLAIMAA: I DON'T OWN OHSHC, THAT BELONGS TO BISCO HATORI (that wonderful woman!) SOOO enjoi!**_

My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my ribcage, soaking the entire airport with my excitement. People were swarming around me, laden with luggage, shouting to each other in Japanese while I stood, unmoving, paralyzed by shock. It was almost unreal, me standing in the middle of Tokyo International Airport, on my way to become a student at the elite Ouran Academy. I had been planning and preparing for this for 3 years, ever since I enrolled in Orange County School District's foreign exchange student program. I had no desire to study in a different country; I was driven solely by the passion to leave Anaheim, my personal hell in Southern California. I didn't think it'd be so hard, but the requirements to be accepted into the program were set very high. All the studying and extra curricular activities I had to do to meet even the prerequisites disconnected me from everything: my family, my (few) friends, technology, pretty much my entire life. Not to mention absolutely destroying my, admittedly, meager social life. That's a gross understatement. The last few months before my departure were absolutely terrible; I knew everyone hated me, but people obviously forgot I existed and decided to freely express their feeling towards me. They were all so childish, their little pranks and hurtful words didn't faze me…Ok, that's another big lie. I made sure nobody saw my pain, and waited until I was alone to be upset. Have you ever tried to deal with something as heavy as everyone _hating_ you by yourself? That's right: no best friend. I've thoroughly convinced myself that friends bring you down, they can be untrustworthy, the can break your heart, they can lie to you…you can definitely tell my 2 bedazzled pink canvas suitcases and 3 matching duffels aren't the only baggage I carry. But that was all behind me, that was the past…well for the next semester anyways! For now, I would be spending my 9th grade year in beautiful Bunkyo, Tokyo! When I read in the program's newsletter that Japan was this year's host country, I pretty much flipped the eff out. My bookcase at home was filled with all sorts of manga, and ever since I discovered Pokemon in the 1st grade, I always dreamt of going to the eastern lands of video games and sushi. My determination was paying off, and my dreams were coming true.

_**Omniscient POV**_

Haruhi Fujioka was sitting at the kitchen table in her tiny apartment, her nose deeply buried in a history book. She had procrastinated studying all weekend, goofing off with her obnoxious, yet lovable friends from the host club, and now she was paying for it by cramming hard. Her father was taking longer than usual to come home from his job at the bar, and Haruhi, like the good little daughter she was, decided to hold off eating the delicious stew she prepared until he came home. Just as the thought of eating just little bit before he came home crossed her mid, the door opened loudly, and a transvestite came tripping in from the outside, landing on the sofa by the kitchen face first. "Hello, dad," Haruhi said softly, sitting down on the sofa. She tucked a stray piece of her father's glossy auburn hair behind his ear. "Hard day at work?" Ranka Fujioka lifted his head up out of the cushion he was buried in. He sighed deeply, "It was karaoke night." Haruhi jumped off the couch, wiping her ink-covered hands on her sweatpants. "How about we have dinner to take your mind off that? I made stew…your favorite!" She walked over to the stove, lifting the lid off the pot and fanning the steam towards her face. Ranka immediately sat up when the meaty aroma wafting from the kitchen reached his nose.

"How was school today, my darling Haruhi," Ranka asked when he was done ravenously devouring his dinner. "Educational, as usual. I got high marks on my American Studies exam." Her father's face lit up, and he gave her the goofiest grin. "OH HARUHI! THAT'S MY DAUGHTER, SO SMART!" he shouted happily, squeezing her hands from across the table. She returned his outburst with a humble smile. "And speaking of school," Ranka started, scooping another forkful of potatoes and meat into his mouth, "You know how we signed up to be a host family for that International Foreign Exchange Student Study program a few years ago?" "Yeah, that was back in elementary school," Haruhi recalled. Her father produced a packet of important looking papers. "We finally got chosen! Tomorrow, a girl about your age all the way from America will be staying with us for the next semester! Won't that be just absolutely wonderful?" Haruhi wasn't quite sure that she liked the idea of a complete stranger living with them, but it would be very interesting to meet and American girl her age. Maybe they would become friends. "Also, it is your responsibility to be with her at all times, introducing Japan to her. She will have all your classes; she's very smart." Ranka gave her a serious nod before shoveling more food into his open mouth. Haruhi sighed. "What's her name?" she asked, licking her spoon contemplatively. Her father furrowed his eyebrows and opened the packet. "Hmm," he flipped past a couple pages. "Oh, here it is." He stopped on a page with all her information, including what was probably the worst picture of her ever taken. "Micah Liam, age 15."

_**(A/n): I know, short, but I thought here was the perfect place to stop. Like an intro to the story. Rate so far? Review? Purrtttyyy Please?**_ I_**deas? One-word sentences? Smiley facessss? : ) New chapter sometime next week.**_


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